


Hot To Trot

by anotherjadedwriter



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Cum Inflation, Large Insertion, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Size Difference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-13 12:04:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3380861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anotherjadedwriter/pseuds/anotherjadedwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Horuss Zahhak is a cute motherfucker, real cute. You're glad you've got this blueblood all to yourself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hot To Trot

Horuss Zahhak is small, for a blueblood. He’s also very obedient, which is surprising to you, what with all the uppity lowbloods you’ve learned to tolerate under the current regime. You’d met him through that Kurloz, the descendant who found you and inserted himself into your life. 

You had flirted with him here and there, and when it came around time that you needed to give pails, you’d propositioned him half out of your pan with heat, only for him to refuse. You were upset, but he had insisted on giving you his chumhandle, and later explained that he didn’t feel right basing a relationship on that alone.

Your pusher had about crawled out of your squawkbox reading that, because goddamn if he wasn’t a cute motherfucker. You’d started courting him the second your mind cleared, and now that you’re almost half a sweep along, you get him to come over all the time, and he’s completely fine with pailing you into the mattress, explaining that the difference in your castes and the power inherent in it makes him “somewhat hot to trot”. Motherfucker’s cute as can be, seriously.

But you do like to give as good as you get, which is what you’re trying for tonight.

He’s panting, cheeks stained b100 and his mouth hung open with these needy keens spilling through his lips, and you can hardly pull yourself back from his neck to watch your hands, one on his hip, holding him as still as you can manage, and the other gripping the base of that toy, just a little smaller than your bulge, as you twist it, slowly, pressing it into him. He’s shaking, his fluids already all over your hands, his thighs are already slick with it, and you’re sure his globes are aching if he’s actually come as many times as he’s told you he was.

His neck is patterned with livid blue bites, his chest arched up and his shoulders soon to be patterned as well. He’s only got about half the toy in him right now, but even though he’s an adult troll, he’s small for a blueblood, a scant 6’9”, so you can’t get to his nook right away, as much as you’d like. His body was made to take your bulge, but not without a lot more patience than you trust yourself to have.

His abdomen, usually more than flat, actually sculpted (you’ll admit to some amount of jealousy over that), is quivering, and you know alreadt from the last toy that he’ll develop a little lump there soon enough, and it makes your bulge twitch in your sheathe. He keens when you bite his shoulder, whining something you don’t quite catch and yanking at your horns.

You pull back from the mark you were making and he kisses you, needy and fast, panting through his nose as he does. Sucking on his tongue, you release the toy to pet his sides, purring soothingly and swallowing his moans. When you pull back again, he gasps a few times and speaks.

"T-too much, ‘s, Highblood, I can’t, I need to come, please, please." He murmurs, wiggling a little, as much as his legs will allow, with how his legs are so tense, you hope he doesn’t get cramped. "Please."

You kiss his forehead and he purrs this stuttered noise. “Shh, you’re gonna be all kindsa fine, brother. Ain’t you been wantin this?” He nods, sitting up a little to kiss you again, so you push at his chest to lay him back again. “You wanna stop now?”

"No! No, I just, it hurts." He whimpers, his bottom lip sticking out. "My b-bulge hurts."

That’s understandable. Still, if he spills now, you won’t feel right getting him worked up again. “Wanna take a break? We stop here, ain’t gonna be able to get back on the hoofbeast right quick.” You kiss his nose, petting him. He’s so cute, this one.

"Mhm." His head tilts into your hand and you feel your pusher melt a little. "Please."

You’re careful in pulling the toy out of him, and when it’s set next to him in the pile of pillows you’d layed him in on the mattress, you pet down his front, ignoring the way your nook is dripping from the sight of him spread like he is. He moans aloud when you start rubbing his hips, his face turning to one side. You kiss at his neck as his legs relax, making sure not to touch too near his sheathe. His tongue slips out to wet his lips when your fingertips stroke at the edge of his nook, lightly.

Normally, you’d just let your bulge do the work, opening your partner up slow and steady, but he’s got his strength thing and it makes him tense. The last time you tried to, he hadn’t been able to handle it. You guess he needs to have more time to get used to things, poor blueblood.

Nosing under his chin, you press your fingers into him, rubbing little circles against his walls, and he hums with little moans, probably oversensitive, his hands finding your hair and his head falling back as much as his horns will allow. You kiss his skin, gentle, and let him rock his hips against your hand, counterpoint to your movements. He gasps softly, murmuring that he’s going to come again, and you kiss his ear.

"Go on, little blue." You purr, leaning back to let your free hand brush down his chest, shufflng your knees further apart on the mattress. "Let it come, let me see."

Horuss lifts his hips, eyes shut hard and hands in almost painful fists in your hair as he comes, his nook fluttering around your fingers. You keep the small circles going, easing him down from his orgasm until he’s limp under you, and you stop, kissing his cheek lightly. His thorax is thrumming with little noises, purrs and moans that go straight to your bulge, and you have to kiss him, you have to touch him and pet his sides and lick into his mouth because he’s so precious.

By the time you pull away, his hands have moved to your pants, pulling them off your hips, and you let him. When you pull back and deal with your pants yourself, he busies himself with your shirt, literally tearing it in half, and you contemplate just getting him over you. He pulls your hips closer, though, shuffling his still-shivery legs around your waist, and your bulge doesn’t need any more encouragement to press at his nook. He’s wet and tight and perfect around you, his body rolling up against yours to get you in deeper, to where you have to grip his hips to keep your pace even.

He does this little not-quite pout thing and you smirk, biting your bottom lip. You’re pinning him to the platform with one hand, the other holding your bulge, so even with the little twitches your hips keep making, you’re not shoving into him. He, though, is doing swimmingly, his face still flushed and his lips this pretty bruised sort of blue and his ponytail all but undone under his head, hair stuck to his sweat-slick face and neck.

His nook is fluttering constantly by the time you get halfway, his voice lost in chirps and growls while the heels of his feet dig into the base of your spine. You have to take a few moments to catch your breath before you can speak. “Okay, this, ‘s enough. Don’t wanna hurt you none, bluebro.” You coo, leaning down carefully to kiss him.

"No, I, Highblood." Horuss whines, and you kiss him again, soothing. "Highblood, please. I can handle you. Please, allow me to, prove myself."

It takes you all of three seconds to decide that you’ll let him try; he can kick you through a wall without trying, you’re sure he’ll tell you if he wants to stop. You murmur that you trust him and he blushes darker blue, nodding, and you wrap an arm around him as you keep moving forward. He’s slick with sweat and keens when you tug his hair behind him again. You store that bit of information away for later, when you’re not still trying to just open him up.

He’s pretty limp by the time you press your hips to his pelvis, his legs wide and his eyes looking almost glazed over. You pet down his chest and he murmurs that he’s okay, but he does jolt when your hand brushes the lump your bulge makes in his abdomen, eyes shot wide and a startled moan slipping through his lips, though you think it was the movement and not that there even is a bump in his stomach.

You’re holding yourself as still as you can manage, and your bulge only has a little space to squirm anyway. His nook is stretched around you and you’re half worried he won’t be able to walk right, half proud that you’re claiming him like this. When he rolls his hips up against yours and makes this low rumble of a moan, you watch his face, and it’s almost pure bliss, head tossed to the side. You lean in, starting to move slow and steady, and the toy you’d been using rolls up against his side.

He lets you tuck his hair back, panting against his face all the while, and laughs in this deep, husky way when you toss the toy behind yourself. His little moans break off in a strangled gasp when you lift him into your lap, kneeling and just tucking him against you, his thighs twitching. You kiss between his horns as you start moving, breathing in quick pants because this position puts pressure against your bulge, makes the bump in his abdomen a little more pronounced and, apparently, does something good for him, because he’s sobbing through another orgasm and his nook is vicing as much as it can around you.

You groan, moving a little faster, and he just lays against you, groaning in time with your movements. Glancing at his face makes your stomach clench, your orgasm creeping up your spine a little faster at the grin, the tears and sweat and drool and how he looks totally blissed, his hands scrabbling for hold on your back and finding it in your hair. You have to kiss him when you see him, you need to, and he responds sluggishly, smiling and sucking on your tongue, his nose bumping yours and smearing your paint.

"Fuckin beautiful, Horuss." You purr, petting down his spine. "Motherfuck, goddamn gorgeous."

He whimpers, and you let him press his face into your neck. “Th-thank you, Highblood, thank you.” His lips touch your pulse and it feels like he’s on fire.

"Gamzee." You manage, easing him back to look him in the eyes. "Call a brother Gamzee, so long as we, we’re alone."

He nods, repeats it against your throat, and you groan, hips jolting. He keeps repeating it, too low to actually be heard but against your skin so you can feel him say it, between moans and other noises, your private name, the one only you and he and the Empress know, and it makes your movements a little harsher. He doesn’t seem to mind, though, he just moans louder, pulling himself against you.

The room smells like sex, smells like him and you together, and you can hear him, you can hear his bones when he shifts, you can feel his hair against your arm, and it’s too much, too fast for you to pull away before you come. He shudders when your material starts to fill him, keening, his body getting stiff and tight. You grind into him as you come, watching with a kind of selfish fascination as his abdomen swells with your material before his seedflap opens to absorb it.

He’s shaking hard when your bulge retracts and you have to lay him down again, your arms weak. He’s chirping, whimpering a little and dripping your slurry, and you’re embarrassed that you forgot to get his bulge out to let him finish. His hands, still in your hair, yank hard enough that your teeth rattle when you lick up his sheathe, but he spits an apology out and grabs some pillows.

"Please please don’t stop, Gamzee, Highblood, please." He whines, no, begs.

You don’t reply, just drag your tongue up his slit, swollen and blue. He sighs shakily when his bulge pokes out, then keens when you suck it into your mouth. His hips twitch like he’d be thrusting if he could, and you make a mental note to do that with him at some point, pressing your tongue flat against the underside of his bulge and swallowing around him when he gets into your throat.

He’s not far off, so when he starts to gasp those high-pitched breaths, you pull away from him, stroking him with your hand and lapping at his bulge all over. He shudders and, surprisingly, comes silently, his body convulsing, and you have to hold him still, two fingers pressing into his nook to rub at his globes and push him through it.

You kiss at his hips as he catches his breath, laying in a pool of his material and sweat, and you’re not surprised when he asks you to carry him.

Horuss thrums a purr when you settle behind him in a hot bath, his head falling back to your chest. You kiss his forehead and he smiles, finding your hand in the water to hold it, and it all feels very rosy. That is, until he wiggles against you a little, face flushing.

"G-Highblood, there is one small issue." He murmurs, the hand of his not twined with yours disappearing under the water. "Your, the, um. The sl-sl, your, material." He finally manages, face totally blue.

You nod, pulling his back to your chest and kissing the nape of his neck. “Lemme do it. Just relax, bluebro.” You keep kissing him, hands running up and down his sides, until he does so, his own hands resting on yours.

Kissing his ear as a tiny apology, you press two fingers into his nook, then use your other hand to soothe him back from the way he goes tense, he’s probably gonna be sensitive for a while. Once he’s okay again, you press up against his globes, just past them, and he actually screams when his seedflap opens up. You press against his abdomen to push the material out, massaging his walls as it clouds in the bathwater and he squirms, moaning and rocking into your hand.

By the time you finish, he’s shaking all over again, more tears and drool (and sweat, but that’s normal) on his face, and you just wash him, holding him against yourself and shampooing his hair, scrubbing him with so much care that you worry you’re getting in too deep for him. Clean and barely awake, he lets you carry him to your coon, and falls fast asleep when you slip in behind him.

The slurry on your platform will be cleaned by the time you wake up, you’re sure, so no need to worry about it when you’ve got a sweet little blueblood all wrapped against and around you. You’ll have to save your energy for carrying him, anyway, if the little shivers in his thighs are any indication.

**Author's Note:**

> :y  
> if you enjoyed this, consider tipping me here: https://ko-fi.com/A781PZJ


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